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<title>it's so nice (to be stoned) by msmaj</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096713">it's so nice (to be stoned)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmaj/pseuds/msmaj'>msmaj</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2019 Songfic Writing Challenge [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, just a couple of stoners in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:54:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmaj/pseuds/msmaj</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a couple of kids, the woods and a nice, fat doobie. </p>
<p>Songfic Challenge 2019- a song about drugs or alcohol</p>
<p>White Witch- It's So Nice to be Stoned</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2019 Songfic Writing Challenge [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1513286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's so nice (to be stoned)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now listen to me brother and I'll tell you true</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Marijuana is good for you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe deeply</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It's so nice to be stoned</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>It’s So Nice To Be Stoned- White Witch</b>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty feels warm inside, like melted peanut butter, sticky and gooey from her brain to her toes, and she really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> likes it. She leans back farther into the decaying log, until she’s draped over it. Sweetwater River roars in the distance, the rapids sounding more like a freight train than a gentle lull of current. Of course, Spring tends to have that effect on the river with the melting snow and incessant rain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s not raining today. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s sprawled on an old duvet they brought while trying to find a song that he calls “mood.” The joint went out, but it’s still stuck between his lips. She watches transfixed as it moves when he speaks, but the reality is, she often finds herself staring at him. He’s pretty, and she can’t help that she likes pretty things. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With an extraordinary amount of grace for someone as high as she is, Betty pushes herself from the log and lands on the blanket below her. Even through the duvet, she can feel how cold and damp the ground is as the twigs jab at her palms and knees. Jughead continues scrolling through his phone even after claiming that nothing will be more appropriate than the classic stylings of seventies rock. She crawls her way beside her boyfriend’s supine form and reaches toward his face to retrieve the half-smoked joint. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the—” The action of pulling said joint from boyfriend’s unsuspecting lips may not have been the smartest move in hindsight, but as the phone falls from his surprised hands and lands right between his eyes, Betty cannot help but laugh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And laugh she does. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling onto her back, Betty cackles as her boyfriend looks on unamused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was not that funny,” he tries to deflect as he sits up and rubs what looks to be a slight lump on his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She clutches the joint in her right hand, the left swipes across her chest as her breathing starts to even out. “Oh, but it was, Jug.” With one last deep exhale, she sits up and sits cross-legged at her annoyed boyfriend’s face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty leans forward, her free hand tracing the long, lean line of Jughead’s leg until it slides from his body completely and dips to the blanket. A pout appears on his face as she pulls herself back but disappears just as quickly when the lighter she’s retrieved relights the joint now set between her lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was not,” he mumbles through the cloud of smoke and puts the proffered joint to his own lips. He hits it lazily as the red spot on his forehead grows more pronounced against his smooth olive skin. She watches as the smoke pools around his mouth and spills from his lips before he sucks it all in. Her tongue darts out and wets her lips as he goes to pass it back to her—not noticing the arms slipping around her waist, squealing as Jughead hoists her into his lap.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Here, in the quiet sanctuary of the woods, away from the ever-glowing neon of Pop’s and mounting demands from impending adulthood, they can just be the kids they once dreamed of being. She never had anything against pot; she just never thought it would be her scene. Too many episodes where she wasn’t in control have pretty much obliterated her ability to let loose and have fun. Before, drinking always seemed like a preferable option to her, but now, alcohol and her meds do not mesh well. (Not to mention that hangovers are rarely ever worth it.) The occasional toke, on the other hand, actually does wonders for Betty’s tortured psyche. In these moments—when it’s just the two of them—Betty can freely </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There are no limitations or stipulations on how or what she feels. She’s able to verbalize and explore so many facets of her own mind when she’s high.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And when she’s with the man she loves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s gotten high with their friends before, but she still feels like she’s walled up behind some kind of impenetrable barricade. With Jughead, he’s his weird, calming self just amplified, and she’s so comfortable in his presence her defenses never have a chance to form. High Jughead makes the mundane fascinating. He’s as dry and cynical as sober Jughead, but there’s a levity to his acerbic wit that shines so magnificently when he’s just slightly inebriated. Earlier, his observations on the migratory patterns of Canada gooses left her equal parts hysterical and intrigued. Three years later and she still can’t believe how lucky she is to get to see these parts of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty pushes a displaced curl from his brow and lays a featherlight kiss on the blemish that mars the skin there. The smoke softly curls around his head as she blows against the flesh. His head tilts up, lips pressing against her neck causing her to shiver.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cold, baby?” he whispers into her skin before pulling back and wrapping his lips around the joint between her fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no,” she breathes out. Before she can react any further, his hand finds its way behind her head and pulls her face to his. The smoke from his lungs tastes sweeter on her tongue as he delves deeper into her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s easy to get lost in this haze of lusty pheromones and killer kush—she’s found she likes it quite a bit actually—but here is not an ideal place to give in to such wanton desires. Not when the muddy spots soak through the blanket, and the wind starts to whip up the still lingering bits of dead forest floor into their peaceful bubble. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As if sensing her wandering thoughts, Jughead breaks their kiss, takes what’s now officially a roach from Betty’s hands, and puts it back in the mint tin. “We do have the station wagon, Betts,” he waggles his brows, and with an excited yelp, Betty attempts to extricate herself from his strong embrace. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s all giggles and flailing limbs as they race to the car, unable to keep their hands to themselves and too high on each other to care. It really is so nice to be stoned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>And in love. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Still on this songfic nonsense because, damnit, I said I was going to finish it and for once in my life, I'm gonna follow through!  And who doesn't love a little White Witch to set the mood!! Thanks for all the kindness and support over the last few months! Everyone has just been, wow. It was like being welcomed back with open arms and all I can say is that I appreciate you all. So, so much.</p>
<p>And especially to BettySnooper/@bettycooper/Cat for being the source of this beautiful header as well as much kindness, friendship and mad betaing skills!!</p>
<p>OH! And yes, I'm aware that Canada Gooses are not, in fact, called that. But I've been watching too much Letterkenny to stop myself. Oops? Not really.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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